I was born into education. My dad was a lifelong educator. My mom, had she gone to college, would have been a GREAT elementary teacher. My grandmother always wanted to go to college, maybe to be a teacher, just like her younger sister did. My stepmom was a teacher. You get the idea. Teaching isn't just what I did (and still do), it's in my DNA.
When teaching began to be stressful and I thought about leaving the classroom, I didn't feel I could talk to anyone. When the discussion and interviewing process started for the job I now have, I kept the whole thing a secret from all my teaching colleagues. I didn't feel like I could tell any of my teaching friends, except one, how I was feeling. I didn't have a much-needed ally to help me through what I was experiencing, and who told me it was perfectly fine to regroup and leave the classroom.
These last few weeks I've been visiting schools, teaching the children about energy use in their school buildings. I met one teacher who is so discouraged, she let slip to me, a total stranger, how discouraged she is and that she's looking for something else. It was the first day I'd met her, and yet here she was, opening up to me. She told me how careful she had to be to not say something in front of anyone from her building, especially the district official who was with us for the first part of the lesson. And she looked like she might cry if we discussed it any further.
REALLY you guys? Really? If anyone should be able to relate to how she was feeling, it's the teachers in her building. If anyone should want to help her develop her potential as an employee, it should be the administrators in her building and district.
First of all, can we get something straight? Teachers who leave the classroom don't "bail." Teaching is a job - a thankless, wonderful, stressful, low-paying, rewarding, irritating job. It's not a mission. It's not a calling. It's not a profession that will be given extra rewards for perseverance in Heaven. It's a JOB. When I left my position, the department chair and administrators were able to find a good teacher fairly quickly. I was not irreplaceable. I was replaced rather quickly and easily.
Second, how wonderful would it be that instead of berating younger teachers, and those who are struggling, if the veteran teachers voluntarily spent time with the less-experienced colleagues just talking to them? I know districts used to pay veteran teachers to do this, and I know your time is already stretched thin. Trust me, I know. It's a very difficult, thankless job and your time is precious, when you actually get some.
But think about it. That new teacher who seems to be struggling - couldn't she benefit from your wisdom? Do you have a great activity that might fit in with what she's trying to do in her class? Can you imagine how much better the school would become if every veteran teacher spent time with every new teacher? Just in conversation. Just letting them know you remember questioning whether teaching was the right decision - and that you understand that some teachers will realize they made the wrong choice, and you won't think less of them if that's the case.
New teachers often leave the classroom within five years. Why is that? For one, they're dumped on with the most difficult students, the least interesting classes to teach, and are never given a chance to really show what they can do because they spend the day putting out fires. They start their careers all eager to learn and do such great things, and wind up in tears because that child did that thing one more time. We snuff the fire right out of them and then put them down for not being excited to teach. DUH.
I had been teaching 4 or 5 years when I was walking down the hall late one evening. I had stayed late because my daughter had swim practice, not because I was any kind of uber-dedicated teacher. I walked by this teacher's room, and poked my head in to ask her why she was still there. She was startled by me, wiped her cheeks, and told me she had to get her finals written because the principal was requiring they be done a week earlier than she'd planned. I told her to go home, that no one in my department had them finished. She looked surprised, then smiled. She later sent me a quick e-mail with a simple thank you for the encouragement. (She DID get the finals written in time, just not that day.) That cost me NOTHING. I don't want to be a self-horn-tooter, I just want to illustrate how a simple word of encouragement, and a little extra time, can make a big difference.
There are articles upon articles "out there" that discuss what teachers can do to make it better for new teachers. Give them some of the honors-level courses. Spread out the troubled students. Provide mentorship programs from veteran teachers. Etc. etc. etc. I'm not about to parrot those, nor am I about to propose anything new.
I just want my teaching friends to think about it. Is there a teacher who was doing well, but seems to have lost his drive? I'm willing to bet that person is rethinking his career choice. Teaching isn't something we can do with any less than 100% commitment. It just won't work. If you have a colleague who might be thinking about a career change, be a friend. Tell him that it's ok. Let her know that you don't think any less of her. Encourage these people. You want the best people in your building working beside you. Berating or belittling people who aren't sure of themselves won't magically turn them into better teachers. If your goal is to help your students realize their full potential, shouldn't it also be your goal with regard to your colleagues?
Leaving the classroom turned out to be the right decision in spite of my angst. I'm now in a position that better suits my strengths. I do miss my students - but not enough to go back into the classroom. I wasn't as good a wife and mother as I could have been, and I like me better not being a classroom teacher. And yet, there's this stigma that surrounds me about having "bailed." If I had been in an environment where I felt comfortable discussing the possibility of leaving without fear of negative consequences, the whole transition may have gone better. I still support the school where I taught - they really are good people - but I can't help but feel that some of them look at me differently even now, several years later. I think it's time that stopped, don't you?
